When the product is invisible, the cons are endless.
When the balding Australian first stepped off the riverboat and into the
isolated pocket of northeastern Peru's Amazon jungle in 2010, he had
what seemed like a noble, if quixotic, business plan.
:An ambitious real estate developer, David Nilsson hoped to ink
joint venture agreements with the regional government of Loreto province
and the leaders of the indigenous Matses community to preserve vast
thickets of the tribe's remote rainforest. Under a global carbon-trading
program, he wished to sell shares of the forest's carbon
credits to businesses that hope to mitigate, or offset, their air
pollution.The product is invisible, poorly understood, and regulation is extremely limited.Located a six-day ride from the frontier city of Iquitos, the jungle’s vegetation, soils, and looming trees store an immense amount of carbon dioxide—roughly one ton, the equivalent of one UN-backed carbon credit, per tree.
In an ideal scenario, this is how it's supposed to work: A community in a developing country works with an NGO or developer to design a plan to protect a large swathe of forest and thus prevent the release of the harmful chemical compound into the atmosphere, in accordance with the United Nations’ program called REDD (Reducing Emissions from Deforestation and forest Degradation). Then, it can get the emissions reductions certified by a third-party auditor and sell the resulting carbon credits to corporations in developed countries interested in reducing their own carbon footprints. (Deforestation accounts for roughly 17 percent of all global greenhouse gas emissions.)
Nilsson's Hong Kong-based company, Sustainable Carbon Resources Limited, planned to help the indigenous community set up the Peruvian carbon credit project in exchange for sharing the profits once they were sold. If Nilsson’s plan worked, in theory the forest would be spared from loggers, his company would net some profit, and the indigenous community would receive millions of dollars in funding for education and medical care from investors and corporations interested in expanding sustainability and social responsibility efforts.
Nilsson recruited Dan Pantone, an Iquitos-based American ecologist with close contacts in the Matses community, as a guide to show him around the jungle, and, more importantly, introduce him to the right decision-makers.
"[Nilsson] told me, 'You're going to be a millionaire in a year,’" Pantone said of his earliest phone conversation. "He said he was going to help the indigenous people."
Early on, Nilsson didn't seem particularly interested in hammering out the details of a potential forest project. "He didn't talk about REDD; he just wanted the contact," Pantone said of Nilsson’s early conversations with Angel Dunu Maya, a Matses chief. "Once he had the contact, he had everything he wanted from me.” In meetings with Peruvian lawyers, Nilsson was also advised about the difficulty of proving the risk of emissions, as REDD requires, in such an isolated area that was already designated as a reserve by the federal government. He also faced other, more obvious challenges. "The government asked him to show his sources of income, and he was unable to do that," Pantone added. "So that was a dead-end for him."
Nilsson flew back
to Australia for Christmas, but he was not deterred. In February 2011,
he reappeared in the jungle wearing what would become his signature,
Crockodile Dundee-style Akubra cowboy hat.
Unable
to broker a deal with regional government officials, he met with Matses
leadership in Iquitos in March and presented a PowerPoint that detailed
the incredible profits he claimed the tribe would receive. He was
granted permission for a meeting in Matses territory, where the
community would decide whether or not to sign the contract he had
presented. According to Indian Country Today, a news service that
caters to a Native American readership, the leaders were told that the
agreement had to be written in English because “the World Bank and the
UN only recognize the English language.” The contract, according to the
indigenous rights organization Interethnic Association for the
Development of the Peruvian Rainforest (AIDESEP), which advises the
Matses and other tribes, gave "considerable control and powers to
[Sustainable Carbon Resources Limited] for an indefinite period.
Effectively this would reduce the Matses to the role of forest
'gatekeepers' rather than playing an active part in the administration
or co-management of the Project."
By this point,
Pantone’s relationship with Nilsson had soured, and his suspicions had
boiled over into a full-fledged investigation into his past. In late
March, Pantone was able to reach two of Nilsson's former associates, who
claimed that they and indigenous communities in the Philippines had
been victims of his deceit. Cecille Villanueva, who worked at an
Australia-based energy consultancy company called Ienergy, sent the
following to Pantone in an email:
We have known him to be deceitful, but also careful in covering himself from possible legal repercussions. But his character certainly shows a trail of … false claims to further his financial objectives, which
in the past involved illegally selling land and running with the monies of
vulnerable people. We hope this does not happen to the Matses.
She was
referencing spurious land deals Nilsson had allegedly made with
residents of the small South Pacific island nation Nauru. In the 1990s,
according to transcripts of meetings in the Queensland Parliament,
Nilsson had sold six rural lots in a coastal area development for
$70,000 each. However, the lots did not exist and the investors in Nauru
never received anything.
In addition,
Nilsson's supposed carbon-credit firm began looking more and more like a
shell company. It didn't have a functioning website or a physical
office, according to a report from The Sydney Morning Herald.
After Pantone and
the Matses shared theses details with AIDESEP and the Peruvian human
rights monitor Defensoria del Pueblo, as well as the local newspaper,
critics quickly labeled Nilsson a "carbon cowboy," and his plans began
to unravel.
According to reporting by GlobalPost's Simeon Tegel,
Defensoria del Pueblo instructed the Matses against signing a contract
they couldn't read. After learning this, Nilsson stormed into the
group’s office.
“He shouted. He insulted us, and we told him to leave,” Lizbeth Castro, the director of the office, told GlobalPost.
“He said he was going to sue us and this would not stand. We told him,
no problem, sue us. But we will keep on doing our work.”
In April, the Matses general assembly rejected the project.
But Nilsson
continued to search for ways to get it off the ground, setting up
meetings with another impoverished indigenous group, the Yaguas. He also
dropped the Sustainable Carbon Resources Limited moniker and began
operating under a new entity called Amazon Holdings.
By October 2011,
he had convinced Javier Fasenando, the president of a Yagua federation,
to sign a deal that would allegedly provide profits to the community "in
return for rights to the 'wood' on their land."
According to GlobalPost:
Fasenando said that he understood the terms of the agreement. “Those who criticize it come from other communities,” he said. “They are envious.”
But at the end of our interview in Spanish, Fasenando struggled to confirm even the spelling of his own name. Other indigenous leaders confirmed to GlobalPost that he is unable to read or write.
Fasenando also was unable to tell me where FEPYRA’s copy of the agreement was.
Nilsson declined to provide a copy of the contract to GlobalPost, saying that he needed written permission from the Yagua communities involved in the deal.
Then, in an undercover operation led by investigative journalists with 60 Minutes Australia that
aired in July 2012, Nilsson explained the real extent of his plan for
the carbon deal to a producer posing as a potential investor as they sat
over a huge map of the territory.
David Nilsson: It’s going to be billions.
Producer: Beg your pardon?
David Nilsson: Billions. I just, I’m scared to quote it, because it’s fucking huge, put it that way.
...David Nilsson: My contracts are 200-year contracts, etched in stone, so when the carbon’s gone, people can come through and harvest the rainforest there. We’d have a forest management plan they can reforest, they can plant palm oil, they can cut all the timber. No one can stop them. No one can stop them.
Producer: But by doing this carbon plan, you’re stopping that happening?
David Nilsson: Yeah, but the carbon plan only goes for 25 years. The contracts still run and there’s enough timber there to supply the world down there. China will love it.
The project would
profit not only from carbon credits, but also from felling the very
forest it was allegedly protecting. Once the lead investigator, Liam
Bartlett, revealed himself, Nilsson simply said that it wasn't a scam,
and declared the interview over.
More than a year later, Nilsson refuses to discuss the details. Reached for comment by The Atlantic twice on his cell phone, he hung up after we identified ourselves. He did not respond to questions sent to his email address.
He has also
attempted to smear anyone who questioned his schemes. He filed charges
against Pantone for fraud in Peru (Pantone was eventually cleared of any
wrongdoing) and later set up a defamatory website that accuses him of
horrific crimes. Nilsson also filed criminal charges against a Matses
leader for fraud.
Chris Lang, a long-time environmental advocate who was one of the first to report on Nilsson’s scams on his website redd-monitor.org, received an email from his service provider, Bluehost, in August of 2011 that forced him to delete "all
images and references to the name" of Nilsson. The company “had
received a ‘report of Terms of Service Violations,’” which, under its
policies, includes divulging private information about third-parties
without their consent.
After the 60 Minutes investigation, Nilsson attempted to impugn the credibility of the Australian journalists Stephen Rice and Liam Bartlett.
In an email to The Atlantic, Rice explained:
Nilsson is demanding that I be sent to jail for entering Peru illegally on a tourist visa. In fact, I was there on a legitimate journalist visa…
Most of [the online attacks against me and others are] just semi-literate rubbish, with laughable sources as “evidence,” but there’s no doubt Nilsson is pushing to have criminal charges laid against Liam Bartlett and I in Peru to make it difficult for us to return.
He’s lodged a 72-page complaint against me with the Australian journalists Association alleging I breached the journalist’s code of ethics and another against our television network (Channel Nine) with ACMA, the Australian broadcasting regulator. None of that is of any concern – our story was entirely accurate – but the complaints reveal the manipulation Nilsson employs.
Though there is a
warrant for Nilsson’s arrest in Peru (for defamation, which is a
criminal offense there), no international law enforcement organizations
have yet investigated him for his alleged crimes. The Yagua have not
received any money from him, according to Al Jazeera. It's unclear whether he's still peddling carbon projects to potential investors.
***
Though
Nilsson's cons were extreme, international law enforcement authorities
and environmental advocates say that the carbon markets are extremely
vulnerable to financial fraudsters like him, especially when it comes to
forest projects. Their shell games can also be hard to spot. As William
Magrath, the World Bank's lead natural resource economist for rural
development in Asia, once put it in a pun in a memo to his colleagues:
"It's a jungle out there." In a meeting he attended with Interpol
officials a few years ago, Magrath recalled, one man leaned back in his
chair and called carbon "a con man's dream." The product is
invisible, poorly understood, and regulation is extremely limited.
Despite
the risks, carbon is the "world's fastest growing commodities market"
valued at about $176 billion in 2011, according to the World Bank. The
European Union Emissions Trading System (EU ETS), the highest volume
compliance market, accounts for $148 billion of that. Countries in
Europe legally require top polluters to remain under certain
government-issued emissions allowances, but companies who emit less can
trade those credits to those who need more. Beyond those allowances,
companies can purchase carbon credits, or offsets, which are linked to
emissions reductions projects, like factory retrofits or other energy
efficiency projects. If the U.S. decided to establish its own
cap-and-trade market, the value of the trades could reach as high as $2
to $3 trillion. Credits from forest projects, like Nilsson's would have
been, have not yet been approved for the compliance markets, but they
are actively sold on a second kind of market for voluntary buyers
interested in offsets.
Unlike the
mandatory compliance credits, voluntary offsets aren't required, but
they essentially allow big companies to claim they're more sustainable
because they're financially supporting environmental projects, like
forest conservation. Though much, much smaller, the $576 million
voluntary offsets market, which includes credits from REDD projects,
will likely expand as the formal compliance market grows. Many of the
sales in this market are linked to corporate social responsibility
efforts and are often meant to offset airline travel, large conferences
and events, and manufacturing. A remote forest community, surrounded by
carbon-storing trees, might offer their credits to say, a major retailer
who wants an annual report that boasts a "green-friendly" initiative,
or the like.
But
without legally "binding targets" or formal regulatory bodies designed
to verify the credits, voluntary offsets are also the area that’s ripest
for exploitation. Already,
many projects that don’t meet the UN’s environmental requirements end
up eventually being sold on the voluntary carbon market, according to a
June report from Interpol. Other projects offer carbon credits that are
inflated in number based on misleading methodologies, do not exist on
anything but paper, or, like Nilsson’s, may serve as a front for other
illicit activities.
As the only
international law enforcement agency "with a trans-boundary mandate,
with designed units addressing both environmental and financial crimes,"
Interpol is one of the only agencies fully equipped to parse the data
and identify carbon fraud at both the project and market levels. About a
year ago, it began expanding and developing its intelligence on the
emerging markets so that it could eventually advise and assist its 190
member countries in dismantling scams as new ones came online.
"Police speculate that the bomb scare provided a diversion so that employees wouldn't see phantom cursors moving across unattended screens."
Its
recent report intended to put its member countries "on notice about the
potential pitfalls" of the trading systems, according to Davyth
Stewart, a criminal intelligence officer with Interpol’s environmental
crime unit. It highlighted the types of financial fraud the EU-ETS has
already become accustomed to in hopes of forestalling similar schemes
abroad. “The experience we've had with Europe was that it was often the
case of chasing their tail," Stewart said. "You know, constantly on the
backfoot, and having to plug holes that were being exploited. By the
time they get around to discovering the fraud, a number of billions of
dollars have already gone missing."
***
A diagram of how a typical "missing trader fraud" works (Europol)
On Tuesday, June 2, 2009, carbon traders on the Paris-based BlueNext
exchange noticed “a terrifically high level of activity” on their
system, according to Chris Perryman, Europol’s project manager for
organized and economic crimes. A record total of 19.8 million credits
swept across the market, a volume “160 percent higher than … average
daily trading volume for the first five months of the year (7.4
million),” according to a recent article
by Queensland University of Technology professors Peter Martin and
Reece Walters in the International Journal for Crime, Justice, and
Social Democracy. The next day, activity plummeted to 2.5 million
trades. The brokers communicated their concerns about the transactions
to the government, and French police shut down the market to investigate
the possibility of fraud.
The crime
that the authorities uncovered was a simple and elegant manipulation of
the European value-added tax (VAT) system, called “missing trader
fraud,” according to Europol. The strategy had been used in various
scams since the 1990s, particularly with small, high-value products like
computer chips and mobile phones, according to Perryman. In the
European Union, when products and commodities are sold across borders,
the buyers are not required to pay taxes to the seller, but they
are when those purchases occur within one member state. In the case of
the “missing trader” scheme, a seller uses shell brokers to sell the
carbon credits and pocket the taxes from the buyer, and then
disappears.
But the intangible quality of carbon credits dramatically simplified the
process. The criminals no longer had to fake transactions by shipping
empty containers or forging documents. “Just by sitting and selling
goods behind your desk, on your computer, you would suddenly have these …
transactions which would allow you to sell goods without VAT across a
border and then sell goods with VAT in your own country. And nobody was
there to verify it.”
After the
BlueNext exchange investigation, authorities concluded that “up to 90%
of all carbon trading in some countries was a result of these fraudulent
activities. This fraud was estimated to have resulted in losses to
several governments of around 5 billion euros in just over 18 months,”
according to the Interpol report. The fraud also destroyed market
confidence, further compounding the economic loss. According to
Perryman, organized criminal syndicates have used the cash they earned
from this type of carbon trading to fund other illicit activities in
Europe, including cigarette smuggling, drug smuggling, and human
trafficking. France and other European countries have since changed
their trading rules to remove VAT from carbon transactions.
***
But VAT was only one of many financial scams.
According
to Interpol, the lack of cross-checking or regulations between
different international markets and exchanges has also allowed carbon
credits from emissions reductions projects to be used on the same market
to offset emissions more than once, eliminating the net environmental
benefit the credits are supposed to provide.
"We know they traveled the world. Traveled business class. They had nice cars. Jaguars. Porsches. Nice clothes. Rolex watches.”
Additionally,
hackers have also compromised weak computer security systems to steal
credits. In January 2011, Europol and Interpol thwarted an attempt
by Romanian web bandits to sell $38.5 million worth of stolen carbon
credits to buyers in the United Kingdom, Austria, and the Netherlands,
according to the Wall Street Journal. They had hijacked foreign
servers, “using them as robots to penetrate trading systems’ security
and accessing member accounts through corporate systems that weren't
well guarded.”
In another case, hackers broke into
the Czech Republic’s electronic carbon registry, run by the state-owned
energy firm OTE. A bomb threat was called into the OTE’s Prague offices
as the criminals offloaded the stolen credits, $37.7 million worth, to
foreign accounts on registries in Estonia and elsewhere. “Police
speculate that the bomb scare provided a diversion so that employees
wouldn't see phantom cursors moving across unattended screens or other
telltale signs of a breach,” according to Ecosytem Marketplace’s report.
Hackers have
also set up fake carbon registry websites that have successfully lured
companies and brokers to provide their account login details, according
to Interpol’s Stewart. This technique, known as “phishing,” poses an
ongoing risk as new registries are established with unfamiliar
requirements in emerging markets. “It becomes easier, particularly when
you’ve got new investors investing, and markets are new, for people not
to really realize that the website that looks legitimate and has the
nice logos on it is not actually a legitimate one,” he said. “Because
the registries and the websites don’t yet have enough of a broad
reputation.”
Since the EU has
introduced new VAT rules and a single unified registry, much of the
fraud has been eliminated from Europe’s market. But Perryman is still
monitoring the system for high-value money laundering. Because millions
of credits can be traded in one transaction, they can serve as an easy
front for concealing the movement of illicit cash earned from other
criminal activities.
***
Assuming
the credits are real, the financial schemes merely result in economic
losses. But manipulations also occur on the project side, as well, and
that type of fraud can undermine the very emissions savings and
environmental good that companies and investors are supposedly paying
for. The value of the credits can be superficially inflated, or entirely
invented, as Nilsson’s case illustrates. Even when developers are
required to hire outside auditors to verify the emissions reductions,
some of the projects are still not doing what they advertise.
Carbon cowboys can flourish quite easily because the product they sell is “an abstract commodity of nothing happening.”
In
an ideal world, developers set up efficiency projects that
demonstrate clear reductions in emissions. Auditors review project
claims, visit the site, verify they are real, and approve them under the
UN’s Clean Development Mechanism as Ceritified Emissions Reductions
(CERs). Once they are approved and registered with the United Nations
Framework on Climate Change, they can be traded over the compliance
markets to offset the pollution of large emitters and meet legally
mandated caps. In the case of forest projects, auditors are measuring
something that's much more difficult to quantify. Instead of determining
that a factory is no longer producing a toxic spew, auditors must
evaluate whether the project is adequately protecting an at-risk forest,
measure how much carbon is exactly stored within it, and then certify
the emissions savings under the Voluntary Carbon Standard. That way,
investors can buy offsets knowing the claims have been reviewed.
But the margin
of error for determining the environmental benefits of such
projects varies widely. It lies somewhere between 10 percent for cement
and fertilizer projects and 100 percent for agriculture-oriented
projects, according to a 2010 piece in Harper’s.
Reporter Mark Schapiro also detailed the cozy relationships and
revolving doors that two prominent auditors–which have verified roughly two thirds of the UN-approved emissions savings–share
with carbon project developers, who provide payments to the companies
that are charged with guaranteeing the veracity of their projects.
The resulting
audits are not particularly reliable. When the UN conducted spot checks
of carbon auditors Det Norske Veritas and SGS in 2008 and 2009, the
investigation revealed that both firms certified projects without
visiting them, according to the Interpol report. Both were temporarily
suspended from audits. In some cases, the auditors were ill-qualified to
complete the work, lacking either training or "proper technical skills"
for the projects to which they were assigned. Of course, these reviews
only occurred in-house and not on the ground, Interpol and Harper’s
note. "With the number of projects taking place in remote areas of the
world, there will continue to be limits in the United Nations [sic]
ability to properly police those projects," Interpol writes. In
addition, according to the 2007 estimates a UN official reported in the
Interpol study, 15 to 20 percent of Clean Development Mechanism projects
granted carbon credits did not adequately prove that that the emissions
savings were directly linked to outside investment. Though these
findings were for projects on the compliance market, the likelihood of
passing off false data on the voluntary market is even greater.
Interpol's
Stewart explained that even savvy investors don't really understand the
process behind how the credits are generated, which makes it more
difficult to detect when something is amiss. "It's not like a bag of
rice or other commodities that can, at some point, be easily verified,"
he said. "Here, you'll have projects that are operating in very remote
parts of the world, difficult to access. It becomes very difficult even
for an independent auditor who goes, who can make it all the way out to
that remote village or that remote town to verify that the project
exists—and that they're doing what they say they're doing.” Carbon
cowboys who set their sights on forest conservation can flourish quite
easily because the product they sell, according to Tom Bewick, a
Rainforest Foundation project manger who does work on the ground in Peru
and Panama, is “an abstract commodity of nothing happening.”
In the voluntary
market, it's really the investor's responsibility to make the
determination whether the operators they're dealing with are legitimate
or not. Because they're making a feel-good purchase, many times, it
seems, they don't evaluate the sellers with much scrutiny. "Anyone can
set up a project and sell voluntary carbon credits to anyone who will
buy them," Chris Lang, of redd-monitor.org, wrote in an email. "The
price can be whatever they can get away with. A large number of
companies have been selling carbon credits as investments to members of
the public -- targeting pensioners. Some people have lost their life
savings to this scam."
In one such
case, City of London police arrested Ian Macdonald and David Downes at
London's Heathrow airport after a three-year trans-Atlantic
investigation revealed that
the pair had sold $9 million in fake or worthless carbon credits and
shares to investors in the U.K. They had recruited cronies to use the
phone lists from real companies to cold-call and convince their mostly
elderly victims to sign up. "Some victims were contacted again months
later and told companies they had invested in were the subjects of
hostile takeovers and that they needed to buy more shares to protect
their original investment. Individual losses ran as high as $600,000," a
press release announcing the convictions read. The duo, which deposited
the cash in American and Canadian bank accounts, lived ostentatiously.
"We know they traveled the world," Detective Constable Claire
Armson-Smith told British journalists. "Traveled business class. They had nice cars. Jaguars. Porsches. Nice clothes. Rolex watches.”
Another Australian, Brett Goldsworthy, who operates the company Shift2Neutral,
has set up what he claimed were huge forest carbon credit projects that
helped Australian PGA and the Sydney Turf Club events go carbon
neutral. But, again, according to reporting by the The Sydney Morning Herald in 2011,
the carbon projects, which Goldsworthy claimed were based in
the Philippines, Democratic Republic of Congo, and Malaysia, were not
not actually happening. Instead, Shift2Neutral, which claimed to have
produced more than $1 billion worth of carbon offsets, had no employees
besides Goldsworthy and was operating out of a small office in a
Westleigh, Australia, shopping center. ''I realized there was something
strange about Brett when we were negotiating with the tribes in the
Philippines and he said he had a boatload of commandos waiting offshore
in case he needed a 'hot extraction,''' Robert Hick, an investor who
never received any compensation or returns from Goldsworthy, told the Herald. A website for Shift2Neutral is still active and has a list of press releases that outline its projects.
***
Even forestry projects that receive certifications
through independent auditors are surprisingly easy to manipulate,
according to experts. In vast thickets of jungle, like the ones Nilsson
was after, maps of the land are usually either poorly labeled or
inaccurate, according to Stewart. Boundaries between forest parcels can
often be in dispute. When a developer claims the rights to a particular
section of forest, flaws in titling records may make it very difficult
to prove fraud.
A British company’s overestimation of the amount of carbon stored in the forests of Liberia would have exposed the country to $2.2 billion of financial risk, an amount higher than its annual GDP.
Corrupt
officials and tribal leaders may also claim the authority to make a
deal they can't approve, according to Rainforest Foundation's Bewick,
who also worked as a legitimate carbon credit developer in Colombia a
few years ago. "They're just as likely to be part of the deal if they
get something," he said. "The people that get screwed are the forest
communities."
Even when there are clear collective titles over sparsely populated swathes of forest, there's still room for manipulation.
"For
a well-intentioned developer, such as we were, the collective title
implies collective management and common pool resource distribution,
which I would argue lends itself to great chance of sustainability,"
Bewick wrote later in an email. "For a fraudster, it can be an
opportunity to manipulate the executive leadership into signing over the
carbon rights to a massive land area. So, yes, a lot less people to
deal with or defraud."
The UN's
guidelines for REDD projects are also easy to game. Developers are
required to define an "imaginary" emissions baseline, or the rate at
which logging and other forces would degrade the environment in the
event that the proposed project didn't go into effect. "In essence, the
purpose of this offset policy is to ensure that greenhouse gas
reductions are 'in addition to what would have happened anyway,'" Martin
and Walters wrote in the International Journal for Crime, Justice and
Social Democracy article. While this might be easier to prove on a
factory retrofit, by, for example, using an emissions device to measure
how much carbon dioxide is released before modifications, determining
how nature and markets will act on a forest in the future is a guessing
game subject to significant corruption. "One can imagine situations
where local collusion might occur in relation to future land use and, in
establishing a baseline, propose … degradation activities that may
never have been undertaken in reality," the authors continue. If
developers imagined a scenario where half the forest was logged, for
example, the carbon credits would be worth more and the returns on the
market would be much higher, even if that amount of logging was
unlikely.
When Nilsson was
initially considering his carbon projects, the proposed baseline was
already an area he planned on fudging. In an email dated September 21,
2010, he asked Pantone:
Are there any records of deforestation aerial or satellite photos showing the deforestation logging over the last 10 to 30 years this will give us an idea when the existing timber will be deleted thus endangering the Matses land and way of life[?]
Pantone replied two days later, offering the most accurate assessment of the difficulties in proving deforestation:
There has been very little deforestation of Matses titled lands, with most being centered around the recently abandoned town of Buenas Lomas Antigua (the population moved to Buenas Lomas Nueva). I will send you links to the satellite images and other maps when I return from my trip next week.
Despite this information, Nilsson wrote back the same day:
I note that there is very little deforestation on the Matses land Dan[.] [A]s long as we can demonstrate the rate of deforestation in Peru and how it can affect the Matses land in time [sic].
...we will have some work to do on this so the Matses land qualifies for a carbon credit project. Between all of us that is 1 American 2 Aussies 1 Irishwomen and team of experts I do not think it will not [sic] be a big problem.
Determining the
amount of carbon actually stored in a forest may be more straightforward
than predicting the future, but it, too, has several gaping holes where
crooked operators can creep in. Satellite imagery, according to
Stewart, does not, for instance, provide details on the different
species of trees or how much carbon is stored in the soil. To do that,
scientists hired by developers on the ground must survey the landscape.
Due to the expense and difficulty in locating a parcel of forest in
these remote areas, auditors rarely make the trip to evaluate their
interpretations.
Even if an
auditor manages to visit the trees, it becomes a complex and monumental
undertaking, according to Stewart. The results often involve
calculations with a set of assumptions that vary based on the particular
methodology the ecologist employs. “It can be relatively easy for a
bribe to be paid … to the auditor to choose one methodology over
another,” Stewart said. “If you didn’t know about the bribe, and you
were just looking at the end result, it would be very difficult to just
to notice that.”
In 2010, a British company’s overestimation
of the amount of carbon stored in the forests of Liberia would have
exposed the country to $2.2 billion of financial risk, an amount higher
than its annual GDP.
***
Many
of the conmen of the voluntary carbon market can expect to run free
without oversight on the ground or law enforcement follow-ups. “Because
it’s not a mandatory market, there often isn’t the same regulator
oversight, and so some of these carbon cowboys aren’t necessarily being
pursued by the law in the way they necessarily should be,” Stewart said.
And coming up with a case is difficult because it’s hard to prove much
beyond a simple breach of contract, even though the ultimate damage can
devastate the environment and financially ruin communities.
“It’s a cesspool, but it’s a beautiful place.”
The
isolation and lack of infrastructure on the ground in most of these
far-flung REDD forest areas make them extremely vulnerable to audacious
operators, who can then market the projects to unknowing investors
abroad. In fact, the weak rule of law seems to be something that the
cowboys depend upon. “If you’re a burglar and you’re wandering around
the streets, and you’ve got every window with [a] neighborhood watch
[sign],” Perryman said, “and then you go three blocks away and it
doesn’t exist, that’s where you break in.”
Iquitos provided
the perfect setting for Nilsson’s con. One of Nilsson’s translators
there, an American who wished to remain anonymous, told The Atlantic
he wasn’t going to defend his former employer, and that, given the
undercover video from 60 minutes, his behavior seemed “pretty bad.” But
all the lawlessness, corruption, and counter-narratives made it
difficult to decipher the truth in a city where there was an “extremely
fine line between a savvy businessman and a conman,” he said. In other
words, it was somewhere where someone like Nilsson could thrive. “It’s
the frontier,” the translator said. “A lot of [foreigners] go there
because they ran out of roads somewhere else. It’s a cesspool, but it’s a
beautiful place.”
According to a report from Global Witness in
2011, in Cameroon one guard "must police hundreds of thousands of
hectares of forest and several well-financed European logging companies,
yet he has no vehicle, no radio, and his shoes are several sizes too
small." As Martin and Reece note, the typical location of a REDD project
does not have the economic resources, regulations, or government to
defend against scammers.
There
is something especially insidious about these fake forest carbon
credits. Investors and corporations who buy voluntary credits believe
they are buying into something grander than, say, the efficiency
improvements of a single factory in China. They believe they’re funding
not only the preservation of trees, but also the wellbeing of local
forest communities. Unwittingly, they might be financing the destruction
of both.“Forests are
not just a reservoir of carbon,” Stewart said. “They’re also ecosystems.
They provide biodiversity. They provide habitat. They provide
livelihoods for local people.”
Few
investors would expect money designated for forest preservation to be
funneled to an illegal logging operation, but in an unregulated system
with fraudsters like Nilsson, it’s entirely possible. “When
you retrofit out a factory or you change the smokestacks and you change
the machinery and you double-glaze the windows, you know that there’s
going to be long-lasting benefits,” Stewart said. “Whereas with forests,
they’re constantly under pressure for being cleared and for being
logged. So the level of oversight is currently inadequate, I think, and
not only does it need to be improved, it needs to be … sustainable and
long-term.”
The voluntary
market has provided a preview of what could happen if forest carbon
credits ever hit the higher-stakes compliance carbon market. Though the
EU-ETS has officially put off that possibility until at least 2020,
California’s fledgling cap-and-trade system could approve foreign forest
credits sooner. Carbon credits sourced to forest management projects located within the lower 48 states can already be used to meet compliance emissions standards there. Village communities in the forest of Chiapas, Mexico, wrote a letter to California Governor Jerry Brown and other officials opposing a recent project
that California was considering for inclusion under the program, asking
that forest offsets not be approved for use on the market. They
criticized the technical expert that helped set up the plan, writing
that she “was more focused on approving the REDD+ scheme to assure
business interests than guaranteeing the protection of biodiversity,
forests, and indigenous and peasant farmers’ territories and rights.”
Both Interpol and
Europol said they expect that if forest credits do become eligible for
trading on the compliance market, the same swindlers who profited off
tax schemes and other loopholes will find ways to manipulate the forest
projects as well.
“It’s a bit of a
murky world really,” Europol’s Perryman said. “It’s a shame because
obviously the whole idea from the politicians and legislators was to
promote a cleaner world, and that has just been completely sunk. The
good ideas and good intentions have been scuppered by the activities of
fraudsters.”
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